Breathe For Tomorrow
by AnnabelleW
Summary: In a world where corruption is the dominant constructor, manipulation is needed to keep it spinning, and the ultimate weapon is the media. Ignorance prevails among the masses, and that is exactly how it's meant to be. Several things have been altered in this story; such as record labels and personal relations. Chad Gilbert bears no existence in Hayley's life.


It has been a decade since Paramore was created, and today was the anniversary. Do you know what that means? Record deal renewal. Every ten years, artists were condemned to renew their contract. The record company used that as an excuse to induce new policies and rules upon its employed singers. _And as the years progressed, so did the atrocities of the inducements, _Hayley thought bitterly as she skimmed through the piece of paper in hand. This was the fourth time she read it. She'd been hoping for an ominous magical power to avert the words that were formally and very bluntly written on the contract, but sadly, no such thing happened. Her eyes lifted to meet the stiff figure of the infamous record producer, Tommy Mottola, before she dropped her gaze quickly back to the cursed parchment. He eyed her accordingly, faux patience enveloping his very being, as if it had formed an aura around him. She felt his gaze burning at her head, discomforting her all the more. It's not like she enjoyed being here in his abysmal presence; she'd like nothing more than to leave, but unfortunately, she couldn't. Not until this contract was officially signed by her. She began to read it once again, more thoroughly this time. She let out a shaky breath, leaning her head against her palm and in process hooking her fingers through her hair. Though not stated forward, it was definitely implied in the contract that she'd have to give up on several fundamental things; her pride, dignity and a good portion of her freedom being some of them. It might've been her very first deal renewal, but it's not like she didn't have a prior thought as to what it would consist of; after all, she had many friends in many bands whom have gone through a similar process, just not _so_ similar. Even though the requirements were somewhat abasing and off-putting, they weren't as extreme as hers! But she knew exactly why hers was different. It's for the same reason that should've been settled once and for all in the early twentieth century. Gender discrimination. After all, she was a _female_; therefore, she couldn't be treated as a man's equal. Oh no, she had to be treated as an _object_, and nothing endorsed that more than the music industry.

Hayley's emerald eyes narrowed as a new wave of bitterness clouded her mind; she calmly placed the contract on the table and passed it forward to the awaiting man. "I don't approve of the terms," she said unwaveringly as she witnessed the eyes of the man before her darken and the fake plastered smile disappear. "You don't approve of the terms?" He repeated bemusedly. She nodded firmly, willing herself not to blink. She knew fairly well that if the renewed contract was not signed, her record deal would be exterminated and she'd be kicked out of the industry. She very much preferred that rather than having another's will forced upon hers!

Mottola's sickening grin returned to his face, only this time, it was even colder. "You do realize that it is a necessary settlement that you can't continue to create music without, don't you? You'd be banned from the company."

Hayley quickly nodded her head, "I know."

Mottola chuckled darkly to himself, "well… that would've been the case if you had created five albums by now."

Confused, Hayley furrowed her eyebrows, "what?"

The grinning man reached to his brief case and extracted the former contract, "you see, dearest Hayley, ten years ago you signed to a contract that specifically said that you were entitled to this company until you had at least produced five albums under its name. You have only produced four."

Hayley was sure her heart dropped to her feet. She wasn't sure how long she gaped at the man like an idiot. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find words to say, yet her mind failed her. She ended up stammering incoherent words as Mottola pushed the contract back in front of her. "You'll need to sign this, I'm afraid."

The young rocker tried her best to shoot the frightful man her best glare, but she ended up looking like a four year old who had just lost an argument with his mom. Tears blurred her eyes as the scrutinizing gaze became harder to maintain; her face began to twist in sorrow as despair made its way to her heart. She didn't know why she got so teary in pressuring situation; she absolutely hated that! It made her look less like an independent adult who had their own view and weren't afraid to fight for it, and more like a small frightened kid.

"Aww…" cooed Mottola as he feigned sympathy, he even dared to make a pouty face! He stood from his chair and approached her, lapping an arm around her as if in comfort. She immediately flinched at the touch and moved to get away from her new-found nemesis. His sickly perfume invaded her nostrils and she had to try very hard not to gag. He maintained a steel-like grip on her shoulder, causing her to involuntarily look up into his face which was in a very close proximity to hers, his beady eyes locked with her frightened ones. His black eyes were dead, period.

Hayley squirmed at the newly found realization and made a bigger effort to escape his grasp and ended up pushing him violently. She momentarily froze in place as she assessed the situation. She had just pushed, and possibly irritated, a man who most likely had no conscience. Or as Michael Jackson had put it; _the devil._

She gripped the back of her seat, examining her resources. The only thing that could be used as a weapon was the cursed pen that she had to sign with. She discretely moved to take the pen, keeping a grip on the chair all the while. She inwardly rebuked herself for acting so weak; she might've been physically frail in comparison but in no way was she incapable. Her gaze hardened as she scanned the man, he looked shocked but surprisingly composed. But she wasn't going to let her guard down. She cringed when he tried to put on another of his 'pleasant' smiles.

"That was rude, Miss Williams, but it will be overlooked," he offered oh so generously, "now," he proceeded once again towards her, she took a step back in reaction, "if you would," he grabbed the parchment, "please sign the contract so that we can both be on our ways."

Hayley stared at it long enough before finally speaking in a relatively quiet, challenging voice, "and if I don't?"

The blood-chilling grin returned, "You'd be sued and sentenced to imprisonment for a good set of years. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" He countered. After a moment of deafening silence, he spoke, "I don't see why you're so opposing to the terms, Hayley. It's hardly debasing."

She scorned the man's attempt of encouragement, "yes, it's more like a redefinition to what kind of an artist I am. I don't even get choose my own material, according to the terms."

"Ah-ah, you do get to choose some of them. It's just that the music that you will be making will be revised by a team of professionals who will help create the other portion of your music."

"Seems more like you're trying to turn us into a Pop band," Hayley muttered. Mottola frowned as if she'd offended him, "why, I would never!" He stated in a ridiculously pitched voice, "the percentage of the Pop stars we have is quite abundant. You'll still have your electric guitars and the drums and the bass and all that! It's only the directing that will be somewhat different." He happily concluded.

Hayley was going to argue that it wasn't the loud music that made a Rock star, but seemed to have lost the drive. What was the point of arguing anyway? He was going to have his way no matter what she said.

_Only one album_, she reasoned with herself, _only one album and you'll exit this hellhole. _

Hesitantly, she reached to take the contract from his hand before placing it back on the table. She raised her right hand which still held the pen that she was going to use on that dream attack. _It's not too late to stab him in the eye with it, what's the use of them anyway if they're already dead?_ She smiled sadly to herself, reverting herself back to reality. Her hand was shaking, she noted dimly. She looked up, he was scrutinizing her expectantly. She swallowed before finally dropping the black-inked pen on the parchment and scribbling down her signature in an idle manner; it seemed like her senses have abandoned her. "Excellent!" The voice of the much hated man sounded alien in her hazy state, "always a pleasure doing business with you." He smirked, grabbing her small hand into his for a sealing shake. Hayley extracted her hand hurriedly and scurried out of the office, tears once again gathering in her eyes. She wiped them furiously with the back of her hand, willing herself to be strong.

_What are the guys going to think of this?_


End file.
